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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426830">the dark side of the moon</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikaFileFan/pseuds/MonikaFileFan'>MonikaFileFan</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The X-Files</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Post-Episode: s11e08 Familiar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 03:20:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,781</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26426830</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikaFileFan/pseuds/MonikaFileFan</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the darkness of their world riddled with death and heartache, Mulder and Scully are each other’s light.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Fox Mulder/Dana Scully</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>116</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>X-Files Episode Fanfic Exchange (2020)</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the dark side of the moon</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnieAmi/gifts">AnnieAmi</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Prompt: Mulder has a difficult time with the death of the young children after this case and seeks comfort from Scully. They discuss their loss of William, maybe what it's meant for their relationship, good or bad. This could lead to discussion of the bedsharing in Plus One, but not necessarily - if it seems the story is going in that direction. Not just the sex, but the bigger picture of their relationship.</p><p>Annie, your prompt was great and once I knew how to start it, the words just flowed. I did my best to make sure I hit your points as I took into account where the MSR was at this point. I really hope you like it. </p><p>Thanks so much to my many beta’s Annie, Kasey, Nicole, Jeri, and Cecilia on this😘</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>A gust of wind blows through the trees, rustling the leaves and swaying the swings ominously on the playground. Little Emily and Andrew played here, laughed here without a care in the world just days before. </p><p><em> Now</em>, he thinks, <em> they’ll play and laugh in starlight. </em></p><p>“Let’s get out of this town, Mulder.” Scully moves from his side, breaking their shared silence. “There is no getting out of this town, Scully. Not these days.”</p><p>They climb into Scully’s SUV together, anxious to free themselves from the heavy blanket of malevolence, and Scully tells him to step on it.  </p><p>The encompassing darkness has blotted out all but the oncoming car’s headlights zooming past, leaving Mulder’s eyes straining to adjust after being blinded by white light. His ophthalmologist appointment can’t come soon enough. Just as muted red and blue pulsing lights from the latest crime scene finally fade into the inky abyss behind them, they pass a rickety wooden sign that says, “You’re Now Leaving Eastwood.” It creaks as it swings eerily in the breeze. </p><p>“And not soon enough,” he mumbles, gripping the steering wheel tighter. </p><p>Scully shifts next to him and he can feel her staring. Her eyes roam the side of his face, studying his profile, reading the unwritten words he knows his clenched jaw and flared nostrils are saying. He can’t turn and look at her, though; not yet. If he does, she’ll see it: the indignation and utter sorrow he’s been tamping down ever since they stepped foot in this town. </p><p>“Mulder?”</p><p>His eyes burn, and suddenly the air in the car is stifling.</p><p>“Talk to me,” Scully prods. Her mere presence is always a comfort, but when she slides her hand through the crook of his elbow and curls her agile fingers around his arm, the knot coiling in his chest begins to unravel.</p><p>He swallows back his discomfort and sighs, practically melting under her tender touch. “I’m fine.”</p><p>“Mm, doesn’t seem like it,” she says, snuggling in closer. “That’s my line. Must be serious.” </p><p>The traffic on the outskirts of Eastwood slows and Mulder turns off the melodic music as they glide through a green light. </p><p>“She asked me if I had kids. Anna, the girl’s mother.”</p><p>“Emily’s.” It is a statement, not a question, and he winces. She knows what she’s doing. They’d been saying her name during the entirety of the case with professional ease, but speaking it now packs a hell of a punch. </p><p>It’s personal.</p><p>
  <em> An innocent life cut short. It’s hard not to take it personally.  </em>
</p><p>He remembers whispering that to her as they hovered over little Andrew’s lifeless body. Personally is exactly how he’d taken it the last time they’d stepped foot in a morgue together. Personally is how they’ve always taken it. But this time, it was not three-year-old Emily Sim staring up at him with her bright blue eyes and strawberry hair. And this time, it wasn’t their long lost son he’s dreamt about for sixteen years laying still and encased within a plastic bag. </p><p>
  <em> I need to believe we didn’t treat him like trash, Mulder. </em>
</p><p>He’s choking now, sucking in stale air and white-knuckling the wheel as he swerves off to the side of the road. </p><p>“Jesus…” Scully huffs out the breath she’s been holding and unhooks her seatbelt, her hand covering his that’s gripping the shifter. </p><p>He rolls down his window in a panic; lets the cold spring air blow through his hair. Crickets chirp between each heaving breath that he puffs through the night sky. “Sorry. I just… sorry.”</p><p>“She’s not <em> her </em>, Mulder,” she says softly. </p><p>And then he knows she doesn’t just mean her Emily, <em> the </em> Emily. She means Amber Lynn La Pierre, Addy Sparks, and the fifteen other little girls celestially frozen in time with their missing cloth hearts; and every other innocent child lost to the evils of the world. But also Samantha, forever fourteen. </p><p>Always Samantha. </p><p>“You’re right,” he concedes solemnly. Her fingers gently draw an S looping through an M across the back of his hand - a familiar act of reassurance only his touchstone can provide. “You’re right, she’s not. But she’s another one lost. They all are.”</p><p>“I know,” she whispers as he finally turns to face her. The gibbous moon reflecting off the windshield makes the liquid pooling along her lashes sparkle in the dim light. </p><p>“Scully…” Mulder cups her cheek and thumbs her brow, soothing the creases of concern. She’s shed too many tears in her lifetime. </p><p>She shakes her head and seemingly wills her unshed tears to stay that way for him. The urge to salve her ache with a passionate kiss is overwhelming. But he’s realized after looking back on the time in their life before she left, that kissing - that fucking their aches away without talking about them is just a bandaid over a gaping wound. It soothes, but doesn't fix anything. </p><p>Reaching into his pocket for a sunflower seed to keep his mouth busy, the <em> David’s </em> bag gets caught on his wallet and he watches the leather square tumble out, spraying a handful of credit cards onto the floor next to Scully’s tiny feet. “Damn!”</p><p>“I can’t take you anywhere,” she teases and bends down to clean up his mess. </p><p><em> Nothing unusual there </em>. </p><p>“Thanks.” She won’t ask him now what he’d told Anna about their son. The moment has passed, but the sympathetic nod she’d given him says she already knows. He’s beyond grateful. “Um, are you hungry? I was thinking we-” </p><p>Scully gasps, cutting off his attempt to give her an out on saying anything more tonight, when he sees what she’s shakily holding between her slender fingers. William’s baby photo she’d given him a copy of years ago has slipped out, and Mulder instantly regrets never telling her he carries it with him wherever he goes. </p><p>The corners are worn soft - well-loved - and he’s memorized every line and swell of his son’s innocent face staring up at him a thousand times over. His pink, cherub-cheeks and round, wet eyes are images seared into his eidetic brain; yet having the physical proof that their miracle exists in this world is a comfort that therapy can never replicate. </p><p>William Scully: Jackson Van De Kamp; his son and hers. Theirs created by sheer existential will together. His name may have changed and his eyes darkened. He may have grown sixteen years’ worth and inherited remnants of their otherworldly DNA, but Mulder still sees the imprint of himself in his child’s features. </p><p>Scully’s breath hitches. “Mulder…”</p><p>Trees rattle as a brisk breeze swoops through the car’s window, chilling a hot tear hovering along his lashes. Something quakes inside him, ready to break. He feels a pull like an undertow in the shallows before a riptide.</p><p>“God, Scully. I can’t imagine how difficult…”</p><p>After all of their tribulations, their losses, after their son... Is this going to be yet another missed opportunity to communicate for them? He cannot handle even one more moment of regret in his life.</p><p>Scully exhales as she traces the shape of baby William’s face. He reaches out to her and wraps his arm around her willowy shoulders, then rubs the back of her neck as she says, “It wasn’t just difficult for me, Mulder. You suffered in silence, too.”</p><p>He thinks of their son as a newborn cradled within his arms, soft and delicate, smelling of baby shampoo and breast milk. Then he thinks of Jackson, the young man now taller than he with dark floppy hair and kind eyes. Those hazel ones mirroring his own as they stared up at him through a collection of 4x6 glossies Scully had found in his bedroom. His son arching one brow and exuding fine-tuned skepticism that rivals his mother’s. And Mulder knows, being silent about the good things too are not helping either of them. </p><p>“No more silence then,” he pleads. </p><p>Scully nods once, dipping her chin to her chest. Moments pass in a hush that only an owl hooting in the distance cuts through. And just before Mulder accepts she isn’t ready to open up, that she may never be, she murmurs, “God, I’m sorry, Mulder. I’m supposed to be comforting you.” She turns into him, clutches his tie, pulling him as close as possible.</p><p>“Let’s comfort each other.”</p><p>She hesitates after he speaks before slowly continuing, “I-I guess I feel like I’ve stolen from you - robbed you of the chance to be a father. I took that from you, no matter my reasoning behind it. And not just the chance to be a father to our son, but to any child because you were with me.”</p><p>Mulder’s stomach twists. Never in a million years could she ever rob <em> him </em> of anything. </p><p>“No, no you didn’t rob anyone, Scully, you saved us. You begged me to flee two days after you’d given birth to keep all of us safe. You didn't fail our son like I know you fear you have in some way. You did everything you knew how to do to protect him. You sacrificed. That's all any caring parent can do. And he's alive because of it. Scully, our son is alive and out there fighting his cocky, teenage ass off to stay that way. I’m proud,” he admits, his voice quavering with emotion. “And you should be, too.”</p><p>A weight as ancient as his self-imposed burden in her life sloughs from his shoulders while he watches Scully digest his words. He only hopes they lessen the anguish she carries. </p><p>“I am. I know he’s out there. I can feel him now and I’m grateful for that,” Scully explains, shaking her head along his chest while he tenderly runs his fingers through her freshly shorn hair. “Mulder… I’ll always hold a special place in my heart for Emily. For the grief and anger of losing a piece of me I was never meant to keep. Same as I do for our son. But I avoid exposing that place for a reason.”</p><p>Scully pauses and he can tell there’s still more she’s been keeping close to the vest for far too long, but he waits patiently. He’ll wait the rest of his life if he has to. </p><p>“There’s pain…” she starts slowly as she moves back and sets the photo in her lap. “But also moments of joy that can hurt just as acutely as the loss.” </p><p>“Is that why you… why we rarely talked about him before?” He grabs her hand and kisses it, stroking her wrist and feeling a sense of calm wash over him as her steady pulse beats against his fingers. </p><p>"No," she says. "Not exactly." There's a deep crinkle between her eyes again. This is hard for her. “I tried to keep you out of that place of pain, out of <em> my </em> darkness. But I learned the hard way - we both have - that it’s not just my pain to bear. Not alone, and neither should yours be.”</p><p>“Scully,” he murmurs into her hair. “Honey, was your fear of robbing me of family what you meant in bed when we… before we made love, about whether I wanted more children? That you didn’t have anyone to have them with even if you could?”</p><p>“No, I...” She bites her lip, trying to convey the deeper meaning of her words that’s sadly been such an illicit act for them. “That’s not what I meant.” </p><p>Of course he remembers the vow to love and to cherish they’d made together. He’s replayed it in his mind every night since she’s been gone. But he has to ask. </p><p>“Because <em> you’re </em> my family, and you’ll always have me.”</p><p>“Oh, Mulder,” she sighs. It’s her well-known tone of <em> you’ve got it all wrong. </em></p><p>Maybe he does. If there’s one thing he has learned throughout the last twenty-five years, it’s that not everything is about him. But there has only been one Dana Scully for Fox Mulder. No one else will ever be his perfect other, his perfect opposite. </p><p>“And because there’s only you, Scully.”</p><p>She nods with a shy smile and squeezes his hand. Her eyes fall shut, clearly relieved to hear it as she whispers back, “There’s only you.” </p><p>He’s relieved himself, excited even for what may come in the future, but he still can’t help but think of the chance she once had to live a normal life without him and feel the slap of guilt. He hates the moments they’ve missed out on in actively playing a role as Mother and Father. He hates not being present to witness their child’s milestones or offer him guidance. Not only because he is their son, but because those are moments in his and Scully’s lives they’ll never get to experience. Yet maybe, each one of those moments Jackson has spent being raised by loving adoptive parents will lead them all to a place of great importance in the future. Their son will do tremendous things in life, and Mulder knows his and Scully’s sacrifices have mattered, even if they hurt like hell. </p><p>“Maybe searching for the truth and living in the darkness for so long leaves its permanent mark,” he rasps and moves in to rest his forehead against hers. “Maybe this has all been some sort of karmic event after decades of lurking in the dark. You spend enough time chasing down the evil that steals the lives of children, and eventually, it chases you back.”</p><p>“No, Mulder, not while I’m here with you.” Her warm palm affectionately cradles his face as she offers up a sad smile. </p><p>“Are you?”</p><p>She blinks once, twice, as she stares at him, her indigo eyes as luminous as the bright side of the moon. “I am.”</p><p>Mulder laces his fingers with hers and presses a kiss to the back of her hand. “Thank you,” he breathes, expressing gratitude above all else. “Sometimes, I still feel like I don’t deserve you, Scully.” </p><p>The flood of emotion he’s done a half-assed job of withholding from her in the years since she left swells like a rising tide, but he forces down the bobbing lump in his throat for her instead. Something holds him back from digging deeper for answers on where she stands with him - with them. He’s not sure they’re ready for more just yet, and he is frighteningly cognizant that she may never be. </p><p>“You absolutely do.” Scully stretches across the center console and hugs him tight, nuzzling her head under his chin as she kisses the scruff of his jaw, then his cheek, letting the thud of his heart thrum beneath her palm. It belongs to her anyway; she had unknowingly laid claim to it the day she uttered, <em> “Mulder, I wouldn’t put myself on the line for anybody but you.” </em> It beats only for her. </p><p>Always. </p><p>“Scully?” He dips his chin and places a lingering kiss to her soft lips. </p><p>“It’s okay, Mulder,” she murmurs. “We’ll be okay.” And he believes her. </p><p>Scully clears her throat while they untangle themselves and she licks her lips, unabashedly savoring his affection as they embrace the suspended moment of peace. “Now, what are your plans for when we get back, besides eat?”</p><p>He smiles playfully, and she rolls her eyes.</p><p>“Mulder.”</p><p>He feels his cheeks flush. “Well… you think maybe <em> you </em> can hold <em> me </em>tonight?”</p><p>“Yeah,” she breathes. “I’d like that.” </p><p>He hopes that later, sated and spent, they’ll curl up together in bed, limbs tangled as they share a slow caress: their wordless expression of <em> for better or worse. </em> </p><p>That’s <em> their truth </em> and they owe it to each other to communicate like this more often - better. To be emotionally available, even when they fear their darkness might be putting a stranglehold upon the other. They owe it to their future selves to acknowledge past mistakes of withholding trepidation and anger from one another, knowing it wasn’t done with malice, but out of their innate urge to protect. Mulder has learned hiding pieces of himself from Scully only pushes her away.</p><p>Maybe his psychology degree is finally starting to pay off. </p><p>Before he begins to steer the car back onto the blacktop, he declares, “I want to do a better job.” It’s not just a wish of his, it’s a promise he hopes she fully understands. </p><p>Scully holds his gaze, affection still swirling in her eyes. “Me too, Mulder.” She leans back, her petite hand still engulfed within his large one. A perfect fit every time. “Let’s go home.”</p><p>But home is wherever she is, he knows. And here they are, on the road again, still loving one another like they always have. </p><p>Together. </p><p>He’s already home.</p><p>
  <br/>
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</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading what I write. I truly appreciate it!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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